


Lenity

by breaumonts (AnonymousCatastrophe405)



Series: I'll Fall With You [9]
Category: The Royal Romance (Visual Novel)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Babies, Babysitting, Crushes, Cute Kids, F/M, Flirting, Foreign Language, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 18:13:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17027565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousCatastrophe405/pseuds/breaumonts
Summary: Lisette clucks her tongue and leans over to look at Bartie’s face.  It’s adorable, small, and unrepentant.  “That’s savage, little man.  You should be nice to your tonton.”“He’s the worst,” Maxwell whines.  “Did you know babies are totally gross, Lisette?  Because I didn’t, and they are.  He’s made some truly unholy messes on or near my person more times than I care to count.”She snorts.  “You sounded just like Bertrand for a second there.”He gasps, scandalized.  “You take that back!”





	Lenity

**Author's Note:**

> **Lenity** \- _(n.) The quality or state of being mild or gentle, as toward others_

It’s strange, seeing Drake and Maxwell someplace so… ordinary.  Savannah’s apartment is nicer than Lisette’s was, bigger and brighter and with a view of the picturesque, parkside street outside, nestled in a safe neighborhood and well decorated with refinished antiques.  Maxwell’s designer clothes are out of place, as are Drake’s rougher-hewn expensive work clothes, and Lisette and Savannah exchange a look neither of the men notice.    
  
In that look is the universal, silent language of all women when they’re communicating about the men around them, and it’s marvelous that nothing, not even a few thousand miles between where they were born, seems to impede its efficacy.  It’s a look that conveys tolerant, strained amusement at how hard Maxwell is trying to alleviate the tension radiating off Drake, and their mutual apprehension over said tension.  
  
If Drake grips the arms of the chair he’s occupying any harder he’s going to rip through to the padding.  Maxwell is sitting on the floor with Bartie in his lap, his index fingers tightly grasped in tiny fists as he makes the baby gesticulate wildly like a puppet, attempting to regale Drake with information about their nephew.    
  
Lisette glances away from Savannah to look pointedly at Drake, then back at her.   _Say something to him_.  
  
Savannah tilts her head and runs her hand through her hair, subtly pointing at Maxwell.   _You distract him_.  Lisette understands now how Savannah Walker carved a place out for herself among the noblewomen at court, and she dips her head in a subtle nod.  
  
“Alright,” she says, nudging Maxwell’s shoulder with her knee.  “Maybe someone else wants a turn with Bartie.”  
  
“Oh, sorry.”  He gently extracts his fingers from the baby’s iron grip.  “I don’t get here that often, I’m used to trying to get as much with him as I can while he’s awake.”  
  
Lisette slides off the couch to sit across from him on the floor as Savannah asks Drake for a few minutes alone to talk about everything privately.  Maxwell carefully lifts Bartie to shift him into Lisette’s arms.  “Careful, he likes to buck his little head like a horse.”  
  
“He’s Drake’s nephew, alright.”  She smiles at Bartie, who goggles up at her with the biggest brown eyes she’s ever seen, and when she makes a face at him he laughs and does, in fact, nearly headbutt her in the jaw.  “Easy, tiger.”  She taps his nose with a fingertip and he laughs again.  “Did you just make that noise?  Did you?  Was that Bartie?”  
  
She glances up Maxwell is beaming like she’s never seen before.  “You’re really cute with him, you know?”  
  
“You’re just saying that,” Lisette replies, but her smile doesn’t fade.  Her stomach flips as Maxwell leans in to get Bartie’s attention and she catches a whiff of his cologne.    
  
Maxwell sticks his tongue out at Bartie, and Bartie does it back.  “This little guy and I are gonna be best buds someday, aren’t we, Bartie?  Yeah we are!  He’s gonna be like his  _tonton_ , right?   _N’est-ce pas vrai, mon petit chou?_ ”  
  
Bartie squeals and reaches for Maxwell’s hand.  Lisette’s heart flutters.    
  
“I didn’t know you spoke French.”  
  
“It’s not very impressive,” he says.  “My accent is terrible.”  
  
Lisette begs to differ.  There’s something inherently sexy about French, and there’s something sexy about Maxwell speaking French, even in the decidedly unsexy circumstances they find themselves in at the moment.  This flirtation between them is already on a razor’s edge, and every day seems to tip them just a little closer to falling off it.  Like dancing the Cordonian waltz, it’s like they’re playing cat and mouse with each other, taking turns pursuing and being pursued.   
  
Without warning, Bartie screeches and throws his head back against Lisette’s sternum with shocking force.   
  
She wheezes.  “Jesus God, he is the strongest baby I’ve ever met.”  She uses one arm to keep supporting Bartie and rubs her chest with the other.   
  
Maxwell nods sympathetically.  “I know.  He gave me a bloody nose once.”  
  
Lisette clucks her tongue and leans over to look at Bartie’s face.  It’s adorable, small, and unrepentant.  “That’s savage, little man.  You should be nice to your  _tonton_.”  
  
“He’s the worst,” Maxwell whines.  “Did you know babies are totally gross, Lisette?  Because I didn’t, and they are.  He’s made some truly unholy messes on or near my person more times than I care to count.”  
  
She snorts.  “You sounded just like Bertrand for a second there.”  
  
He gasps, scandalized.  “You take that back!”  
  
Lisette holds Bartie up like a shield and grins at Maxwell from behind him.  In a funny little voice she says, “Why?  What are you gonna do about it?”  
  
Bartie squeals and waves his tiny, dimpled fists at Maxwell, not at all threateningly.  Maxwell lightly taps his fists against the baby’s, gently boxing with him and making him laugh one of the most amazing, infectious baby-belly laughs Lisette has ever heard.    
  
“He’s a very effective bodyguard,” Lisette giggles.    
  
“You say that now, but just you wait until he goes down for his nap.”  
  
She bites her lip.  “Is that a threat?”  
  
“Mmmaybe.”  He smirks playfully at her.   
  
She takes one hand off Bartie to shove Maxwell’s knee and lowers her voice.  “Behave.”  
  
“Must I?”  
  
“You must,” she declares.  “There’s a baby present.”  
  
He blinks innocently.  “But Drake’s in the other room.”   
  
Drake’s displeasure is a tangible presence in the room despite his absence.  “I can hear you, you know!”   
  
Lisette snorts.  “Ooh, busted.  He’s gonna kick your ass for that later.”  
  
Maxwell makes a  _pshaw_ sound and rolls his eyes.  “Whatever.  Like he could even catch me.  Only one of us runs.”  
  
“Big talk for the guy bunking with him on the train.”  
  
“Oh shit.”  Maxwell’s face pales slightly.  “I totally forgot about that.  Oh my god, the awkward tension will kill me!  I’ll crack under the pressure.  I’ll die, Lisette!”    
  
“Maybe you should look to room somewhere else for a few days,” she suggests.  “With someone whose mere presence will protect you.”  She blows a raspberry at Bartie, who thinks it’s the most incredible thing in the world and almost screams with joy.  She shushes him.  “Liam, probably, he has all the good security.  Or Hana, she could use a beard with her parents and Madeleine twisting her arm to find a husband.”  
  
Maxwell is quiet, and Lisette fails to hide her smile when she looks up.  His eyes are so bright, sparkling with hope and possibility.  She could let him dangle a little longer, sure, but with a baby on her lap and Maxwell’s undivided attention, she doesn’t have the heart to do it.    
  
“Or maybe you could stay with me.  It might be nice already having you there with me instead of waiting to pretend you woke me up.”  
  
“Bertrand will kill me,” he says, not sounding entirely bothered by the fact.  
  
Lisette smiles at him.  “We’ll tell him it was my idea.”  
  
“It  _is_ your idea.”  He’s grinning.  
  
“We’ll say I seduced you.”  
  
He bites his lip.  “I’ve been seduced.”  
  
She has to distract herself with Bartie to not give in to her urge to lean over and kiss Maxwell stupid.  


End file.
